


Touch Starved

by thtzwhatuthink



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Comfort, Emotional, Fluff, Hanzo has a panic attack, Happy Ending, Jesse is there to provide comfort, Jesse notices how Hanzo disassociates, M/M, fic is strongly focused on emotions and physical contact, healing vibes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-20
Updated: 2018-01-20
Packaged: 2019-03-07 02:28:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13424799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thtzwhatuthink/pseuds/thtzwhatuthink
Summary: Everyone on base is touchy with one another because that pat on the back might be the last human touch they have before gunmetal kisses them into eternal sleep. Among their weekly movie nights, surrounded by beloved comrades, Hanzo still finds himself feeling touch starved.





	Touch Starved

Political objectives in present day Overwatch no longer promise safety during combat operations. Every mission ends in the med-bay. Life is not promised. For that reason, everyone is close with one another because that pat on the back might be the last human touch they have before gunmetal kisses them into an eternal sleep.

Of course, every agent has different degrees of touchiness. Tracer is all around touchy, as is Lucio. Hana will find a new opportunity to sprawl herself across the legs of those sitting on a couch with no seats left. Genji will pat everyone on the back as a greeting. Reinhardt would do the same if his pats didn’t make people lose their balance, but he’s more than happy to bear the weight of anyone on his shoulders or rest with Ana under his arm.

Jesse welcomes all forms of human physical contact the same way, however he’s surprisingly mindful of touching others. Maybe he gets all that he needs by receiving small gestures, in which giving them is unnecessary.

It makes sense, he’s popular with the recruits.

Hanzo on the other hand, is less fortunate with popularity. He does not complain; Genji’s contact is frequent and comforting. Hana’s affinity to lounge on multiple sets of legs does not exclude him. Shoulder-to-shoulder packed couches and dropship rides are a common occurrence he partakes in. When they pass beers around in the living quarters or ammo packs on the battlefield, fingers brush past each other. Hands are grabbed when people slip or stumble to aid in gaining balance back.

Yet, Hanzo still finds himself feeling touch starved.

It’s a feeling he can leave on the backburner because numerous other more pressing matters occur, like not getting killed. Food and rest are more important than human contact too.

He gets enough of it in theory. Only when he’s among a gathering of agents on base, and he has the chance to zone out, does the feeling irk him.

Maybe he's touch starved because only his brother goes out of his way to personalize contact with him. The real root of the issue is the lack of acceptance, and thus the social intimacy that acceptance provides.

He swears it never bothers him. Yet as the nights get longer during winter, and thus the movie nights get longer, the chances to disassociate to that dark head-space become more frequent. Hanzo hopes to the heavens that it doesn’t change how he engages in conversation afterward, yanked from the dark cesspool that his mind becomes on occasion.

He hopes he portrays aloofness and appears quick to wit. Maybe being a stone-cold bitch in some cases, because that’s the kind of character that keeps everything together.

However, by the way Agent McCree pulls him to the side one night in the kitchen, maybe that stone-cold persona he hopes he conveys is not what others see.

“I notice the look in your eyes during movies, Hanzo.”

He cannot help to stare at the floor between them, unsure if he should feel ashamed or grateful someone noticed. He is even more unsure of what to do with that information; or what Agent McCree may do with it. Hopefully nothing along the lines of informing any of the medics on the team. He has no idea what Angela is capable of, but he does not want to find out with mental health.

He anticipates the “What’s wrong?” question that never comes. He realizes Jesse McCree doesn’t have to ask. Rather when Hanzo glances at the man's face, he finds knitted eyebrows and dark eyes dilated to the dim atmosphere of the kitchen at night, filled with concern. Eyes dart right back down to the floor.

He does not speak; not because he needs to, but because Jesse understands Hanzo is not one for words. His problems are his problems, and Jesse understands the value of privacy. A noisy cowboy may only make matters worse.

Hanzo looks wrecked; barely holding it together with admirable poise. As much as it pains him to maintain a respectable distance, Hanzo is no open book. Jesse will not open any book not asking to be read.

Instead, Jesse rests a hand on Hanzo’s shoulder. A gesture of comfort which nearly breaks Hanzo, because how could this agent who he’s only spoken to in group settings inadvertently provide the perfect response?

Jesse rubs Hanzo’s shoulder in a soothing manner, and Hanzo breaks. Years of pent up emotional stress effectively ignored and concentrated jump-starts Hanzo’s heart as if it wasn’t already beating fast. The back of his head hurts, and he would be lying to say that he tried controlling his breath to refrain from hyperventilating.

The world becomes dream-like temporarily. Hanzo knows he’s still in reality, but every sensation feels nothing like it. The feeling is nearly overwhelming, and his ability to stand on his feet by himself is dwindling fast.

When Hanzo leans into Jesse’s comforting touch, he meets no resistance. No personal space bubble, no one has that around the base anyway, he’s not sure why he thinks about it now. Hanzo does not resist the urge to lean forward; he’s incapable of stopping himself right now.

Just as stress crashes through his body, he practically crashes into Jesse. Arms wide open like the gentleman he is.

He's unable to hide his breathing now. Not his heartbeat either, although considering how damn observant Agent McCree is, he’s not so sure he fooled him to begin with. 

A beating chest exists against his, strong and reassuring. Two fingers on his wrist briefly, as if the cowboy couldn’t feel _or_ hear Hanzo’s heartbeat. The pounding drum is his chest was the only thing Hanzo hears, with the roar of blood in his ears as his body falls out of rhythm.

Jesse wraps his arms around him quickly, guiding their bodies together to lean against the counter. Hanzo trembles in his arms, gripping McCree for all could. There’s one hand on his back, and one hand rubbing the back of his head, encouraging Hanzo to bury his face against McCree’s neck as he quietly allows himself to hyperventilate at last.

“I hear ya’ pumpkin, you’re having an anxiety attack.”

Putting a name to a condition that he is experiencing, is unusually soothing. Hanzo knows panic attacks are not constant; his body will not remain like this forever. It’s fleeting, with a long cool down period of hours maybe even days afterward. He could deal with that.

As McCree begins to rub small circles between his shoulder blades, Hanzo concludes that yes, the feeling will not last. McCree’s touch may have triggered the attack, however it’s also what he craves. Touch can soothe him.

Touch _is_ soothing him, right now.

He grips the fabric of Jesse’s shirt. He squeezes the fistful of fabric before he squeezes McCree with his arms. When he relaxes his muscles, the feeling does not leave— _no_ , not yet—but something escapes him. Whatever is left now, as he’s cradled in McCree’s arms in the middle of the kitchen at midnight, it’s manageable.

Composure returns to him in waves, until he stands on his own again.

The repercussions of what just occurred between him and Jesse are unknown, but Hanzo is operating on newly found gratitude for the cowboy before him. He’s not sure if he calmed down because someone was there for him when he least expected it, or if it is because that someone to step in was Jesse McCree. The only agent who seems to act like everyone has personal space he cannot invade, although him rubbing Hanzo’s arm suggests the contrary.

Hanzo thanks him in a whisper and apologizes softly; unsure if he has his voice.

Jesse offers a small smile at the thank you and requests for Hanzo to never apologize for panic attacks because, “It happens to the best of us.”

When they return to the movie in the recreational room, it’s with bags of popcorn for everyone. A distracting excuse for how long they were both absent. Lucio pops up from the couch before the popcorn is distributed, commenting about how he must check on a recent music upload.

Hanzo assumes the corner seat of the couch just as before; doing his best to ignore the new vacancy next to him that was once Lucio. He’s perplexed when Jesse does not resume his usual position two couch cushions over, rather he plops right down next to him with a full bag to himself and a new beer.

Mumbles about the reclining footrest on the other side of the couch is broken, and promptly presses a button to demonstrate how his new seat is fully functional.

Hanzo was not oblivious to how close Jesse sat to him, thighs touching. Hana bought the commentary about the better working seat, but Hanzo could see how Jesse gave Hana a wide gap of space compared to his side.

Maybe Hanzo is just overanalyzing the situation. Remnants of the kitchen incident are still in his system afterall. He does a great job of convincing himself that the proximity of McCree is coincidental, that is until Jesse presses his thigh completely flush against Hanzo’s.

Shoulders touch too. Hanzo looks over at Jesse and sees the same small smile from earlier. Jesse’s facial features are striking among the vibrant flashes of action scenes, but Hanzo pays the movie no attention. Rather, he finds a heart-clenching comfort in the soft backlight that allows him to read Jesse’s lips:

“I will be here with you from now on.”

**Author's Note:**

> Is this classified as hurt/comfort?  
> I've never written that category before because I despise sad things, but I wanted to see how well I could produce emotional pieces.
> 
>  ~~(This was an abandoned piece from October 2017, I'm def not cleaning out my files)~~  
>  Thank you for reading until the end!


End file.
